Seren led Lia deeper into the forest, the hush of the funeral pyre gradually giving way to the murmurs of nature. Everywhere around them, life was unfolding in soft, shy bursts—buds swelling on the ends of slender branches, tiny leaves unfurling like timid hands reaching for the sun. Birds called to each other from the canopy, and the soft rustle of underbrush hinted at the presence of something larger. A herd of elk had been seen the night before, weavingthrough the moon-drenched glades like shadows reborn. The forest was her friend. No one could hurt her here.
In spite of death, there was a timorous hope in the air. The forest whispered of beginnings.
Seren was aware of Threk. Though she couldn't see him, she could feel the tether of his silent protection trailing behind her like a comforting shadow. If Lia tried anything—if this was a trap—Threk would be there before the danger fully formed.
But Lia's voice, when she finally spoke, wasn't sharp. It wasn't even defensive. It was low and flat, with a layer of weary acceptance painting the edges.
"You look well," she said in a low voice, her eyes distant.
Seren turned her head, catching the woman's profile as dappled light played across her face.
"Hagan and you... you look good together," Lia continued, voice quieter still. "He reaches for you when you're not near. I see it in the way he looks at you. It is the way it should be. I knew... I knew there was no hope for us, even before I admitted it to myself."
She paused, taking in the wakening forest, breathing as though she hadn't allowed herself to do so in years.
"In a way," she whispered, "I'm glad things turned out the way they did. He wasn't the one for me. Not really. I tried to want him, but... itwas no good. And I'm sorry, Seren. For everything. The way I treated you. If I could go back, if I could—"
She broke off.
Seren felt it before she understood it—a block, a wall, something invisible but suffocating that wrapped around Lia's voice and mind. She wanted to say something more. Needed to. But something in her blood, the magic that had bound her, wouldn’t allow it.
Silvery streaks of liquid regret painted her pale cheeks with the echoes of the regret in her heart.
Seren reached out to her with an instinctive need to comfort a wounded animal, just as the underbrush behind them rustled violently—and Hagan emerged, wild-eyed and breathless.
"I couldn't find you," he growled, his gaze locking on Lia with instant suspicion and panic. "Seren, come to me. Get away from her."
"She means no harm," Seren said calmly, stepping slightly between them. "She's not here to fight."
Lia raised her hands slowly, palms open. "I don't. I swear it."
Hagan's posture didn't relax, but he didn't advance either.
Seren turned to Lia, asking the question that had been building since the funeral. "How did you get your wolf?"
Lia blinked, lips parting as though the answer had been waiting on her tongue.
"My mother," she said quietly. "She... she had my wolf bound. I was born with both—enchantress magic and a wolf spirit. But both were equally powerful, warring inside me like two opposing entities. She thought the wolf was a weakness. The emotions, the instincts, the empathy—it made my enchantress power... softer. So she had my wolf locked away, buried deep so the enchantress in me would rule."
Her voice shook with something like shame. "But now that my enchantress magic is gone—permanently bound—my wolf... she can be free. I'm grateful. Selfish of me... but grateful. I didn't even remember that part of me. I was so young when she did it."
Seren's breath caught. The woman standing before her was not the icy rival she once knew. This version of Lia seemed peeled open and raw, exposed in the most human way possible. And for the first time, Seren saw her not as a threat, but as someone lost—someone still trying to remember who she used to be. There was no mistaking the truth in her eyes. There were layers to Lia that they knew nothing about. And for some reason, she couldn't tell them.
"You deserve to have her," Seren said softly.
Lia looked up; eyes wet. "I don't know if I deserve anything. But I think... I might finally be able to figure out who I am."
Behind them, Hagan was still tense, but the anxiety had begun to settle in his chest.
Seren reached for his hand without looking. He took it instantly, instantly at peace. They slowly made their way back to where the funeral pyre was still burning bright.
Chapter 73
The room was dark, lit only by the soft orange flicker of the hearth across the room. The faint smell of cedar lingered in the air, though the fires outside had long died down.
Hagan lay on his old bed, too long for it now. His feet dangled slightly over the edge, his muscular arm tucked behind his head as he stared at the wooden ceiling, lost in a tangle of memories and grief. He remembered all the times when he had messed up and his father would come and talk to him while he was under the covers and it was too dark to meet each other’s eyes. Confessions of failure and promises to be better were easier to make in the dark.
The door creaked open.